She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. “You—appear to know my name, sir,” Sir John said. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. And he unsheathed his sword.
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